


A Little Louder Please

by rashaka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bellarke, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Eavesdropping, Explicit Sexual Language, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Post-Season/Series 03, Road Trips, Romance, Sleep talking, but not in a bad way, is there such a thing as accidental non-con flirting, just in a kind of crushingly embarrassing way, this is a lot lighter than my usual fare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rashaka/pseuds/rashaka
Summary: “So,” Clarke cleared her throat.  Bellamy raised his eyebrows.  “You talk in your sleep.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey readers! For celebrating my 3000 follower anniversary on tumblr, I made [a poll asking what fanfic prompt y'all would like me to write](http://rashaka.tumblr.com/post/147152573182/hey-folks-im-getting-close-to-3k-followers). The winning prompt was **"I said your name in my sleep and now you don't know what to do."** I'm a little late (I hit 3k a month ago), but I'm happy to bring you a piece of humor and dirty talk and fluff. I hope you like it! Thank you all for subscribing to me here on AO3 and for following me on tumblr. Thanks for sticking around even when I switch fandoms or can't stop posting anti-Trump reblogs. Stay gold.
> 
> Comments are loved and appreciated!  <3

Sunlight stretched out wide and hot across a yellow wasteland, baking the electrically powered vehicle that carried Clarke and Bellamy down a forgotten highway.  The weather was bright and cloudless, and the Rover from Mount Weather didn’t come equipped with environmental controls, so they basically had to suffer through the spring heat wave.  A thought teased the back of Clarke’s mind that it could be another sign of rising global temperatures, but she wasn’t prepared to think about that problem today.  Today, they were on a rescue mission.

At this moment, five of their people were stranded at a distant scientific outpost, trying to gather intel about possible safe passage away from the radioactive plants.  Among them were Monty and Harper, so when time came for someone to make a rescue effort, Clarke and Bellamy insisted on going.  Clarke was nervous, but not scared—they’d passed the area of the last grounder clan without harassment, and Monty’s crew should be waiting safely a few hours down the road. According to Harper’s report the road was clear, and if it wasn’t for a vehicle malfunction, the team would've already been home by now.  As it was, Clarke and Bellamy got to take a few hours drive to go get their friends, just the two of them.  

Getting out of Arkadia was almost a relief these days, and aside from the heat, the trip had been going pretty well.  The American landscape after the cataclysm was relatively boring for a road trip, but Clarke liked getting the driving practice in.  No one was asking her to be responsible for anything at the moment, and Bellamy was good company when he wasn’t asleep.

He was, however, asleep right now.  She sent a glance his way, noting how his head leaned against the window and his shoulders slumped against the car seat.  A nasty neck cramp was coming his way, but it was still nice to see him unwind for a while.  Clarke liked that she was the one he could unwind with.  A boring drive more than made up for the chance to give Bellamy a break for once.

“Clarke,” he said softly, and she glanced from the road to him.  He still had an hour before they switched shifts.

“Yeah?”

“Clarke, I want...” His voice trailed off mid-sentence, and didn’t finish, which was weird for him.  Bellamy liked to talk with definitive statements, usually in the form of snapped commands or cool, calm observations.  He was not a man short on opinions.

“Bellamy?”

He said something more, under his breath.  Clarke risked a look away from the road.  “What did you say?”

“Don’t sleep over there.”

Realization snapped into place for Clarke, and she relaxed.  Smiling a bit, she readjusted her grip on the steering wheel.  Sleep-talking... that was new.  She hadn’t known Bellamy was prone to it.

Before she could think of the etiquette for replying or not, he said more: “I want you to sleep here.  I want you to sleep with me.”

This was such a perfectly classic thing for Bellamy to say that Clarke rolled her eyes.  Like, did you hear that, Earth?  Protective hero type Bellamy Blake in a nutshell: insists on sleeping near his friends even in his dreams.  He always put his stuff down near her when they were out in the field.  Clarke didn’t know if it was a deliberate strategy of his militant training, or a result of his unique family situation, or if he just liked knowing his friends were nearby.  Either way, the sentiment was sweet.  Reliable.  A little patronizing, but in it’s own way it was comforti—

“I want to fall asleep inside you.”

Clarke almost swerved the car.

In her defense, she didn’t.  (Thank god.)  But she did jump in her seat, and her hand instinctively went to cover her mouth as if she’d been the one to say it.  Which, no _he_ had.  Said that.  About her.  In his sleep.

With wide eyes Clarke looked frantically between Bellamy and the road, the road and Bellamy.  “Okay, Bellamy,” she tried, managing to keep her voice clear and, with great effort, calm.  “Maybe you should wake up?”

From the flutter of his eyelashes and the shallow rise of his chest, he was still knocked out.  Clarke could always reach over and touch his shoulder to wake him up, but he _did_ need the rest and, okay, she might be a terrible person.

Really, it was the way she was raised.  Two nosy intellectuals had produced a nosy kid, and Clarke Griffin was not good at ignoring things that weren’t her place to know.  Good quality for saving her friends, but… yeah, she was a terrible person.  

“Bellamy,” she said, guilt fighting with ferocious curiosity.  Curiosity won, as usual.  “What else do you want to do with me?”

He mumbled something.  “What?” she goaded.  “Tell me.”

“I want kiss you,” he said in a soft sleepy voice.

Warmth flooded Clarke, like butterflies dancing in her stomach, and her guilt lessened considerably as her expression transformed to a grin.  She smiled at the dreaming Bellamy, smiled at the sun bleached highway, smiled at the distant brown hills.  Sure, okay, if she weren’t set to go to Hell already, she definitely would be after this.  

But still.  

Bellamy wanted to sleep with her and he wanted to kiss her.  Not shocking news, exactly, but… well.  Clarke smiled at blue afternoon sky.  It was worth knowing.  

Fondly, she tried to think of something to say to wake him up gently.  “Bell,” she began.

“I want to put my mouth on you,” he interrupted, and _oh my god_ , all of Clarke’s warm and fuzzy thoughts vanished instantly.  What replaced them was not wholesome.  

“You do?”  Her breath caught in her throat at the mental image: Bellamy lying beside her at night when they were camping, kissing her and then moving his mouth down her body.  

“God… I love your tits.”

Wow, okay, he was still talking.  How was he still talking? 

“Yeah, like that,” he moaned.  Her best friend and co-leader Bellamy was sitting in the passenger seat not two feet away and he was _moaning._ “Just like that Clarke.  Fuck.  I want to lick your tits and then down to your legs, see what you taste like.”

There weren’t enough words in English or the Grounder slang to describe the out of body experience Clarke was having in this moment.  She squirmed in her seat, shooting constant glances at her friend as she drove.  Should she be replying to any of that?  Half her brain shrieked that this conversation was bad wrong _bad_ ; the other half was overcome with the picture of Bellamy’s head bobbing between her legs, eager to see what she tasted like.

She inhaled.  “Okay Bellamy.  That’s very... specific.  But maybe you should think about something else.  Or wake up.  Wake up.”

Bellamy didn’t wake up.  He only got more articulate, and who the fuck gets _more_ articulate with sleep-talking?  “I could just put my mouth on your pussy and stay there for hours,” he slurred.  “You and I and one of those wide beds in G section.  No one bothering us.”

Clarke felt actual goosebumps rise on her skin, which was a really weird sensation given that she was also trying her best not to clench her legs together.  Being aroused was not the appropriate reaction to this situation.  And she was _not_ aroused, for the record.  Because this was bad.  This was so so bad.

“Yeah, put your hands in my hair.”

It took herculean effort, but she kept the vehicle going in a straight line.  She was never gonna get so much good driving practice as today.   _Fuck fuck fuck FUCK_ screamed Clarke's internal monologue.  She was down to monosyllables, and they were moving into uncharted territory with every mile.  Planet Earth was having a laugh at her.

Across the car her friend moaned again, louder.  It was like she’d accidentally flipped some switch in his subconscious.  Did he always do this in his sleep and she’d just never realized?  Was he faking it?  Maybe he was screwing with her.  Weird joke, but Clarke could roll with it.  She could be fun.

Bellamy twitched in the passenger seat, his sleepy voice rough and hypnotic.  “Come on, Clarke, please.”  

 _Oh my god_ , she grimaced.  He was definitely not faking.  

In front of them, the road was a stretch of unbroken flat pavement.  With rolling hills in the distance and the occasional cocoon of a building hunched along the roadside, the land was empty but for their tiny truck on its tiny, meaningless journey.  There was no one around for miles to hear them but Clarke still felt like she needed to apologize that this was happening.

“Bellamy?” she asked, his name coming out more like a squeak.

“Don’t worry Clarke, it’ll be good, I’ll make it so good.” His head was down and he spoke mostly into his shoulder, but his words floated clear as day in the small space.  

“Um.”

“I can do it, Clarke, let me do it.  I’d taste you and love you and make you so hot.”

“UMMM.”

“I promise I’ll make it good and then you’ll stay.  You stay.”

Like a sucker punch, the words knocked Clarke backward.  Square in the chest.  

Any lust she had vanished and shame filled the wound, tenfold.  If she could have melted directly into her car seat, Clarke would have.  She’d sink right through the metal floor of the Rover into the one hundred year old blacktop and then disappear forever.  

Here lay Clarke Griffin, eavesdropper and bona fide shittiest friend on the planet.

The objective part of her mind knew there was so much ‘what the fuck’ to unpack in his muttered comments, and some of it was clearly more about him than her.  None of that mattered, because certain things were not meant to be overheard.  He’d forgiven her for leaving and they were working past their trust issues, but she should definitely not be listening to his private insecurities.

“I’m right here Bellamy,” she said at last, voice strained.  “Can we... be quiet for a moment?”

There was a long pause from the sleeping body in the seat beside her, then a tentative, “Mmm Clarke?”

She gulped a breath.  “Yeah, Bellamy.  We’re trying to be quiet.  It’s time to rest.  Be quiet for me?”  

Miraculously, he did.  Bellamy’s head lulled forward a bit, he mumbled something into his jacket collar, then he went silent.  The hum of the road drowned out the sound of his steady breathing, but his chest rose and fell just like it should.  His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes moved in REM sleep, but he didn’t speak again.

Clarke made it a solid fifteen miles on the odometer before she couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled over.  No one was ever going to give her an award for knowing when to leave things alone.

She parked them in what had once been a fuel station.  Although the electrical ports were broken and corroded, a tall overhang still provided shade.  The decrepit building on one side of the lot was at least half rubble.  When he felt the vehicle roll to a halt, Bellamy came out of his nap, blinking as he shook his head.  “Hey,” he grunted, “Did we make it?”

“No,” replied Clarke.  “We had to stop.  I’m sorry to wake you but... we have to talk for a minute.”

Getting more alert at her tone, Bellamy turned a little to face her, adjusting himself in the passenger seat.  “What is it?”

Pressing her lips together, Clarke gazed out the windshield at the rubble and beyond it, the dry brown hills.  “I’m sorry,” she apologized again.  “This is really embarrassing, and… it’s probably gonna make you mad.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, and after another awkward pause, he offered, “Well, you could just not tell me?”

“No, I definitely need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“So,” she cleared her throat.  “You talk in your sleep.”

“Christ,” Bellamy hissed as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  Throwing his head back against the corner of the seat and the window, he squeezed his eyes shut.  “Whatever it is, we don’t need to talk about it, Clarke.  You’re fine.”

“But—”

“I used to do it when I was a kid, it’s nothing.  Just ignore it."

“I can’t ignore it!” she snapped.  “It’s my fault because I encouraged you.”

He eyed her.  “What?”

“You were talking a lot and I didn’t realize you were asleep at first.  But then I did, and you said some stuff.  So I... asked you questions.”

Bellamy was giving her an incredulous look now, that _‘I can’t fucking believe you’_ expression he used to make constantly when they first met.

“So what did I say?”

Clarke swallowed.  “Mostly that you want to sleep with me.”

“Jesus, Clarke!” he burst, flinging himself deeper into his seat.  As if Bellamy needed actual physical distance.  Away from her.  Yeah, the reality version was turning out super well.

“I said it would make you mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“You said you wanted to lick my tits and fall asleep inside me,” added Clarke, because goddamnit she was committed now.

“Fucking Christ.”

“And there was a lot about finding out what I taste like.”

Bellamy pressed one hand over his eyes, then dragged it through his hair.  “Why are you making us have this conversation?” he grimaced, trying to sink as far as he could into the car seat.  

“Because I’m a terrible person!” retorted Clarke.  Her voice was locked somewhere between light panic and defensive vehemence.  “You just kept answering, so I just kept asking.  And I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry, okay Bellamy! You can hate me.  But I couldn’t drive anymore with you just asleep like that and having no idea what you were saying.”

Bellamy’s jaw had clamped shut, and he stared across the small cabin of the Rover in a combination of flushed embarrassment and what was probably deep irritation, if Clarke guessed correctly.  Finally, he swallowed and said, “I don’t hate you, that’s stupid.”

Clarke, biting her tongue, nodded.

“I forgive you for taking advantage of my sleep-talking,” he continued.  “If you promise to just wake me up immediately next time, can we get back on the road again?”

“I promise,” she agreed, giving Bellamy a nervous half-smile and turning the car engine on.  She wheeled them onto the highway, negotiating carefully around the debris on the on-ramp.  In minutes they were driving again, with a blue and yellow view stretching from horizon to horizon.  Late afternoon sunlight cooked the asphalt.  The private world inside the Rover was silent but for the hum of their tires on the ground and the occasional gust of wind over the hood.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she observed his fingers flex where they rested on his knee.

“I mean,” Bellamy cracked abruptly, “If I hated you, I wouldn’t talk about eating you out in my sleep.”

Clarke slammed the brakes.

 

— the end —

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *clears throat* I may have... put some [follow up porn in the comments.](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/80843506) ;)


End file.
